


The Mockingjay

by Streetlightlove



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Gen, Horror, Suicide, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-29
Updated: 2013-01-29
Packaged: 2017-11-27 11:42:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/661608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Streetlightlove/pseuds/Streetlightlove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes Madness is the scariest thing of all. Based on the poem 'The Raven' by Edgar Allan Poe. One-Shot for Prompts in Panem -Day 6 (horror)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Mockingjay

My eyes begin to droop, as I try in vain to stay awake, sitting before the canvas, a sunset I had finished drawing just minutes ago. I cannot and will not fall asleep because if I do I will dream of her. My long lost Katniss taken from me in a hunting accident not even a year ago.

My head is heavy and I know sleep will not evade me for long. My eyes hurt from tears, both that I have shed and held back. I shiver at what dreams will come tonight and what horrors my sweet Katniss, now in Heaven, now an angel will have to endure from my brain so muddled with my own pain.

Suddenly a scent of something familiar tickles my nose and my eyes shoot open, my heart pounds in my chest. It is the smell of pine needles, leather and sunshine, my breath quickens and my soul aches because that smell is her's, my lost Katniss.

I am interrupted from the want to scream, by a knocking on my front door. I look up at the clock noticing the hour is very late, nearly 1am. I wonder if it might be Haymitch knocking this late at my door.

I whip the door open practically tearing it off its hinges, not in the mood to entertain while I am so deep in my sorrow. Though no living thing stands before me, instead it is just a backdrop of wind and rain, a constant raging storm. Yet it is not the rain I smell, or the coal dust, or even the waste of Haymitch's geese but instead it is those three things; pine needles, leather and sunshine.

My breath catches in my throat and I have to wipe my eyes dry. I don't know why I dare to dream. She is gone, she is dead, deep in the ground of the meadow, I placed her there myself. I dug the hole, then sealed her wooden casket, only after kissing those still lips one last time. Yet here I am standing in the doorway of my Victor's Village prison getting drunk off hope.

"Katniss?", I whisper into the storm, hoping if she is not truly here that the wind carries it up to her ears in Paradise so that she knows she is still everything to me. I do however hear a voice, but it is not hers, yet the voice is still oddly familiar. The voice says only one word back.

"Katniss."

I immediately shut the door. My heart ready to leap from my chest, my breathing erratic and sharp. I turn and lean my body against the door, letting myself sink to the ground. I land my head in my hands, trying to control my breath.

"It was just the wind.", I try to convince myself, "The storm is crazy out there, it was only the wind." It takes me awhile before I start to believe the words I speak. Once I have calmed myself down. I stand and make my way to my bedroom upstairs, now convinced that it is sleep I need.

I stand by the edge of the bed unbuttoning my shirt. Suddenly I hear a knocking at the window on the wall across from me. I cock my head curiously, squinting my eyes in hopes to see what is causing the sound. I cannot see what knocks from where I am, so I cautiously approach. When I get to the window, unlatching it, I expect it to be a loose branch of a tree. Yet as I open the window it is not a branch that is visible but a bird, the bird being a Mockingjay from Panem lore.

The bird seems to nod at me, hopping past me, landing on Katniss' side of the bed. Her side having been left untouched since she has been gone. The bird does not seem interested in what other birds are curious in, and instead just stares at me. The birds eyes are an all too familiar gray, a shiver shoots down my spine.

"What is your name little bird?", I ask with a mad amusement. The bird cocks its head at me before it answers.

"Always."

The fact the bird can speak startles me. I know I should shoo my little visitor away with haste. I need my sleep as I can feel the mounting madness scratching at my brain, but I am so lonely, so lonely without her, so I pull up a chair next to the bird and ask it another question.

"Where are you from little bird?"

"Always."

"Is that all you can say, did a passerby teach you that?"

"Always." The bird was sent here to drive me mad I decide, but I will not allow it.

"You are an evil bird, aren't you? You have been sent from Hell below."

"Always."

"Why do you say that word, are you confirming my suspicions, have you come from Hell?" Yet when I look at those eyes, I feel the need to ask, "Or do you perhaps come from above?"

"Always."

I feel excitement bubble in my chest. "Do you know of my lost Katniss, my beautiful dark haired Katniss." The bird cocks its head again, and I practically scream with delight. The air around us is thick and I can almost hear her sing. "You do know her don't you, you do?" I push out of my seat and am now on my knees in front of those gray eyes. "Tell me bird do you have a message for me, a message from my sweet Katniss." Yet the bird says nothing except.

"Always."

"Damn you bird, why do you play with me so. Do you not see I am dying inside, dying to know that she is ok. Why will you not give me some relief. Please tell me she is alright."

"Always." I can't help the sobs that come now.

"Do you say that word because she is forever at peace, or is she unwell. Is she in trouble, does she need me to protect her?"

"Always."

"Please small bird, messenger of my love, please tell me what I must do to help my Katniss."

"Always." The bird's deliberate silence infuriates me, and I find myself picking up and throwing everything in the room that I can smash against a wall. Needing to break something, but not daring break this bird. My fit does not seem to unsettle the bird, in fact the mockingjay may be a little bored. It seems to even shrug before saying.

"Always."

"You do not plan on telling me my message from my long lost love do you?"

"Always." I can't help but smile at this bird who thinks it can so easily outsmart me.

"Well then I will ask her the message myself." I leave the room quickly gathering supplies. I attach the rope to the ceiling fan, and tie the hangman's knots the way she had taught me. Standing on the wooden chair that I had been sitting in minutes before. I place the noose around my neck, and smugly grin at the bird still sitting on her side of the bed. "Ha, you stupid bird you think you can outsmart me, but you won't keep me from my Katniss."

"Always." The birds gray eyes seem to widen

Lightning cracks as I step off the chair, and as the rope begins to tighten I hear a voice, but it is not the 'always' of the bird, but instead a voice that is soft and sweet, A voice I have all these months longed to hear."

"Peeta?" My eyes fly open just before everything goes black.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
